You Jump, I Jump, Jack  

You Jump, I Jump, Jack  


"The taste of your lips is my idea of luxurY"

When you want to run, because at some point we all find ourselves there, stand still and listen. There’s the wind and it reminds you that not even the quiet is ever truly that lonely. There are the voices of your friends who remind you that they trust you even if they don’t trust the circumstances around you. Float in that. We’re 60% water, 50% of that is poured into us by the love others feel for us.

Text by text they’ve piled up reminders that above all else they want my happiness, above all else they trust me. Every time I get one of those texts, I want to cry because how is it possible to have fostered such genuine trust among others and to only now be doing the same with the reflection in the mirror. My friends have seen in me parts of my heart, strength, and tenderness that I haven’t even seen in myself. Parts of me that no man has bore witness to because they’ve been too busy focusing on the other parts. The success, the responsible facets, the space I give them to show up whole. 

Every guy I’ve dated can pen a long list of how good of a listener I am. The way my hand intertwined with his and the way it spoke of peace he’d never known. 

The right guy has seen glimpses of the other parts of me, the part that is funny not because I’m actually funny, but because I’m not funny at all but still incredibly confident in my delivery. But he’s also not seen enough to really know me. My fault, or his, or both. 

The guy sitting in front of me on the 6 train, stares and successfully catches my attention, he smiled, so I smiled back. He had on a pair of black and white Converse and checked his phone to switch songs every few seconds. He had a nervous knee that he calmed by flipping through his pages of notes. I wondered if he was as fidgety in a relationship as he was on a 30 minute train ride. He was all PhD, all Clark Kent dark framed glasses with thick eyebrows. He was J.Crew bomber, over a plaid red shirt with lips so pink that they matched, kind of man.

I wondered what light he would see me in if we struck up conversation. Would he see in me the same parts that the guy I’m texting saw, or would one win over the other. I’m tired of my own elevator pitch. I know what I do, I’m learning who I am, and I’m living to find the set of eyes that will see me through a lens that is reminiscent of how my friends see me, but also so unique that he’ll be in a league of his own. Focal point, me. The perfect aperture for me to be clearly seen.  

“I didn’t know you wanted that.”

6 words that begged a question in my head — did you ever think to ask or did you just disqualify me based on the fact that I care about my credit score?

Because I sure as hell know that I’d been disqualifying myself. 

We’re put into boxes so often that we forget that with trust is meant to come freedom and release from pretenses, not the opposite. Trust brings being anchored, no more looking over your shoulder, no more needing to hold your breath. Maturity, financial stability, anchored self-worth, means being able to pay your rent, take a spontaneous trip, and understand that if the space is meant to be yours you don’t have to overcompensate for it, all without any feelings of guilt or "damn, I fucked up" thoughts. This is true with trust in others or trust in yourself. 

We're not made to always play by the rules, but we are more likely to risk when we know we have a safe place to land. I'm making choices that are against logic, but it's okay, my friends are there, each a mattress to land on if I fall. Getting hurt is less of a fear when you know you're not alone in the process. 

My favorite scene in Gilmore Girls is from the “You Jump, I Jump, Jack” episode, in it Rory and Logan end up jumping off a 7-story platform, hand in hand, umbrellas in other hands, rope around waists. 

“Isn’t this the point of being young - people can live a hundred years without really living for a minute, you climb up here with me, it’s one less minute you haven't lived.” 

“Let’s go.”  I’m game. 

“You trust me?”

“You jump, I jump, Jack” 

“Once in a lifetime experience.” 

“Only if you want it to be.” 

It applies to love. It applies to trust. It applies to learning to have fun. It applies to knowing you can break a heart, or a limb, but so what? I rather a broken heart with stories than a whole heart without stories to tell. I'd prefer to know that I jumped, feet first, into a life so full that it could actually give me everything I've ever wanted versus one that lived on the surface and kept me safe not because I felt grounded, but because I didn't feel challenged. 

The guy slid over two seats and leaned the left side of his body against the pole of the train. He slouched a bit in a way that was reminiscent of my bad posture. He fidgeted with his glasses and pushed them up his nose, I know that move. He scanned the train as his eyes made their way back to me, I looked down and smiled, I knew the game. I just had somewhere else to be. I knew it. 

I got up. He gave me a look as I walked off on 23rd. Maybe like he wished he would have made a move. Maybe like seeing me walk out was the last thing he wanted. 

Yeah dude, I know the feeling. It takes two though. You jump, I jump, Jack. 

Best Case Scenario 

Best Case Scenario 

Permission To Start Again 

Permission To Start Again